


Drabbles on Demand

by Wherefore_art_thou_Homeo



Category: Haikyuu!!, Hunter X Hunter, Multi-Fandom, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko, 残響のテロル | Zankyou no Terror | Terror in Resonance
Genre: Drabbles, Explicit Language, Love Confessions, M/M, Olympics AU, Platonic Relationship, Prank Wars, Sports Injury, abuse mention, ongoing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wherefore_art_thou_Homeo/pseuds/Wherefore_art_thou_Homeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Older drabbles from a 2015 project. Not the best show of my abilities but hey they're here.</p><p>Check my Works page for more recent (read: better) works!!</p><p>Nezumi/Shion: Chapter 1<br/>Kageyama/Hinata: Chapter 2<br/>Tanaka/Nishinoya: Chapters 3 & 4<br/>Gon & Killua: Chapter 5<br/>- Gon & Killua (less platonic): Chapter 6<br/>Nishinoya/Azumane: Chapter 7<br/>Oikawa & Iwaizumi: Chapter 8<br/>9 & 12: Chapter 9</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dangerous Territory (Nezumi/Shion, No.6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Beyond. Requested by astroslinky.tumblr.com.

66\. Dangerous territory

 

It was the middle of winter when he found himself back in that murderous city. He wasn't exactly conscious of the decision to return, either; he'd simply run out of places to wander. Even after all the time he had spent away from him, he still – pathetically – found himself defaulting to him.

 _But it's not_ _'_ _returning_ _'_ , he told himself as he walked the empty streets. _It's not returning because you're not staying._

It was very late, and everyone in No. 6 was sleeping, locked up tight in their climate-controlled homes. To those people, the weather was the same as it would have been in the middle of summer. He pulled his scarf tighter around him. He really was freezing…

He hadn't thought this through, he realized. He had no idea where he was going. He had no idea where he was.

 _He's probably moved,_ he realized. _He's a big shot now. He wouldn't still live in this part of town._

_Why are you even here? What is there for you in this damn city? There's nothing. Nothing, because you made perfectly sure it would be that way._

_It's been almost six years. He'd move on._

Oh, but would he?

Six years ago, he would have said the same thing about himself.

He shook these troublesome thoughts away and continued down the road, taking turns at random. His feelings of unease only grew as he moved on.

This was stupid. This was a big waste of time. He didn't have any sort of purpose in being here. He should just leave.

But… He was still hopeful, wasn't he.

He was still clinging on.

He really had lost.

He was just about to turn back – for real, this time – when something caught his eye.

One of the houses – a big, white one, right on the borderline between the rich houses and the poor ones. He stared at it, and blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

He wasn't. One of the glass double doors to the balcony on the second floor was thrown open.

It was too far open to have been left that way accidentally. There were no lights on inside. The owner was asleep, peacefully, with the window wide open.

He felt his heart sink, but immediately rise up again. He wanted to turn and run.

But – of course – he didn't.

 _Why are you doing this,_ he asked himself as he hopped the garden fence. _Why. What do you hope to gain from this._

He had no answers for himself. He clambered up the side of the house and swung himself onto the balcony, landing lightly, without a sound.

He stood there for a second, not trusting himself to move. He could see the inside of the room well from where he was; he could see a computer on a desk, immediately across from him; he could see a bookshelf, and even read some of the titles on the books' spines; he could see the diagrams of cities and trees pinned to the walls.

He could see the foot of a bed, covered in a thick layer of blankets, halfway between him and the opposite wall.

He should leave. He should run.

He took a step into the room. It was almost as cold in here as it was outside. He never took his eyes off the bed.

He could see the person lying in it, covers pulled up so high that he could only see his head from the eyebrows up.

Pure white.

_Run._

He moved closer to the man lying in the bed. He was in a deep sleep.

Shion didn't even stir when Nezumi sat down on the bed beside him. He had to be very tired, now Nezumi thought about it… He had a lot of work to do these days. No matter how far away he'd gotten from this accursed place, he'd never stopped hearing about the bright young man who'd quickly climbed to the top of the restructuring committee, improving it all the way.

Everyone had such high praise for him. They all said he was the beginning of a new era.

Nezumi stared at Shion's sleeping face. He had worry lines now, Nezumi realized with a pang. There, between his eyebrows. Subtle, slight, but… well, he shouldn't be surprised. Shion wasn't a child any longer.

Nezumi reached out a hand and touched Shion's hair before he could stop himself. He pulled the hand away quickly, as though from a hot stove, and closed his eyes.

_No. Don't do this. Any further and you'll want to sleep beside him tonight, and be there when he wakes, and you'll want to stay…_

Shion shifted in his sleep. He made a small noise, and frowned a little.

Nezumi stood up abruptly and walked across the room to the desk. He shifted the papers around, opened and closed drawers, rifled through them – there had to be one here somewhere –

He found the key soon enough. It was small, and silver-colored. Just the right size to fit the door to the balcony.

Nezumi walked over to the door and out into the cold again. He stood with his back to the room, to Shion, for a moment or two before he couldn't resist looking back.

The place looked untouched. Not even he could tell he'd been there.

 _You didn't have any real reason to leave,_ he thought. _But it's still far, far too late to go back._

_You've well burned that bridge._

_Don't drag him back to you, not after all this time._

Nezumi reached for the door handle and slid it shut as quietly as he could. The hinges hardly squeaked. He clicked the doors together, and then turned the key in the lock. He tested the handles to make sure they didn't turn, that he'd locked himself out.

Nezumi stood contemplating the closed window. He nodded to himself.

He dropped the key off the side of the balcony, and then followed it down.

He left No. 6 far more quickly than he ever had before, but he felt like his feet were made of lead.


	2. Future (Kageyama/Hinata, Haikyuu!!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by dontdowhatihavedone.tumblr.com.

53\. Future

 

It was surreal, being able to _look back_ on everything they'd been through. For such a long time, all this had been ahead of them; unattainable, it had seemed – it was always _tomorrow_ , or _later –_ _not yet_ _._ All the things they wanted were always jumping ahead, just out of their reach.

The idea of being able to stand at the top and look back at everything they'd had to achieve to get there – it was absolutely dizzying.

They'd _made_ it. They were _almost there._

And they'd done it together.

Hinata stared out the window of the bus. His stomach was doing flips. He couldn't even focus on the scenery flashing by. He hadn't been to Tokyo in a while, and he'd really meant to try and take it in. The games wouldn't even begin for another week, and he was nauseous already. This didn't look good.

He rubbed the palms of his hands together in an effort to keep from shaking. His skin was covered in sweat. He wiped it off on his jeans. He put his hands back on the armrests, fists clenched tight.

“Hey.”

A larger hand covered his. He looked up at Kageyama, seated beside him, and found him staring straight ahead.

Hinata relaxed his fingers and turned his hand over. Kageyama slid his fingers between Hinata's and squeezed reassuringly.

“You've made it this far,” Kageyama said. “Don't clam up on me now, of all times.”

Hinata didn't want to open his mouth. He was afraid that if he did, he'd throw up. He really didn't want to throw up on Kageyama. Again.

Instead of trying to talk back, Hinata leaned on Kageyama's shoulder and closed his eyes. He just had to focus on his breathing, and he'd calm down. It would take a while, but there was plenty of that; the bus was starting to hit the dense Tokyo traffic, so it was slow going.

He felt Kageyama kiss the top of his head. “There you go,” he said, releasing Hinata's hand to muss up his hair. “Calm down. We've got a long ways to go, still. Save the worrying for later.”

Hinata pulled his legs up into his seat and hugged them to his chest. Kageyama wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

Hinata looked out the window again. Everything was a muddle of city lights, and cars slowly moving on all sides. It was late; almost midnight, declared the clock next to one of the business parks. The hotel they'd be staying in wasn't far from here, if he remembered correctly.

Everyone on the bus was tired. They'd been traveling all day, chatting excitedly for most of the journey. Now, though, they were out of new things to say, and the night was warm. Most everyone was dozing or asleep, with the sounds of engines lulling everyone away.

“Are we really here?” he murmured.

“Hm?”

He repeated himself. Kageyama rapped the top of his head lightly with his knuckles.

“Of course we're here,” he said. “Tokyo. You've been asking me the same thing for weeks. 'Is this real'. 'Are you sure'. Have I ever answered anything other than 'yes'?”

Hinata shook his head and tried to say something, but found that he couldn't speak. He was choked up, suddenly. His eyes started to sting.

He still had such a hard time grasping the idea that he'd made it here. This wasn't just a neighborhood competition. This was the _Olympics._ In junior high, on his first team, it had seemed impossible to even get to competition in the first place, let alone win. In high school, the other team had always seemed so much more prepared than his. He'd never felt ready; he'd never felt good enough, not really, because somebody else was always better.

But, despite that lingering feeling, here he was. At the top. Up here with the best, from all over the country.

He sniffled and rubbed at his face with the back of his hand.

Kageyama sighed and gave him a one-armed hug. “Hey, don't cry,” he muttered. “There's nothing to cry about.”

Kageyama rubbed Hinata's shoulder with his thumb. Far from calming down, Hinata found it harder to keep the tears back.

“...Thank you,” he wavered, drying his eyes on his sleeve.

“What?” Kageyama asked. “There's nothing to thank me for.”

Hinata took hold of the front of Kageyama's shirt and looked up at him in earnest. It was really, really important for Kageyama to understand him right now, but somehow he couldn't make the words happen.

_Thank you. I couldn't have done this without you. There is no way I could be here today if it weren't for you. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for yelling at me when I was being an idiot. Thank you for picking me up off the ground and smacking me around when I started to give up._

_Thank you for tossing to me._

_Thank you for_ _putting up with_ _me._

_Thank you for everything._

But “Thank you” was all he could say, so he said it again. Then he _really_ couldn't talk anymore, because tears were choking him again.

Kageyama rolled his eyes and kissed Hinata's forehead. “Idiot,” he whispered. “Get some sleep. I'll wake you up when we finally get to the hotel, okay? You need to rest. We still have to practice tomorrow.”

Practice tomorrow. He'd always waited for him at the corner. _I'll race you there._

Hinata smiled and leaned on Kageyama's shoulder again, wiping his tears away.

This future wasn't a future he'd ever thought would be real, and he still wasn't sure if he was ready for it.

But he had his setter at his side. With Kageyama there, Hinata felt like his chances were good.

He pressed himself as close to Kageyama as his armrest would allow and closed his eyes again. Once the tears dried up, he fell asleep fairly quickly. The last thing he was aware of before drifting off was Kageyama running his fingers through his hair.

Kageyama watched him for a few moments to make sure he was asleep, and then leaned around and kissed him between his eyes. He was unable to keep from smiling.

“Thank you too, dumbass,” Kageyama said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten a few requests, actually. :D If you've got one, hop over to my tumblr (i-homeostasis.tumblr.com) to look at the prompt list and send one over.
> 
> Prompt list: http://i-homeostasis.tumblr.com/post/121631539569/the-original-100-themes-lists


	3. Revenge (Tanaka/Nishinoya, Haikyuu!!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by astroslinky.tumblr.com.

82\. Revenge

 

_Delivery instructions: don't ring the doorbell – bf is sleeping._

Noya quickly checked over the order and then clicked send.

He had ten minutes. Plenty of time.

He got up and walked into the kitchen. It was a mess in there, as usual, but now worse than normal.

The war had started last night. He would not lose.

He pulled open one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a bag of M&Ms. Then he crossed the room to where he'd hung his bookbag on the back of a chair and took a bag of Skittles out of it. He held one bag in each hand and grinned widely, putting all his effort into holding back a cackle.

This was so evil.

He took a big serving bowl out of the cupboard and cut the bags of candies open. He dumped them all into the bowl and mixed them around thoroughly. He left the bowl on the coffee table, in front of the TV.

He had to look through drawers for a while before he found the plastic wrap. It took such a long time that he started wondering if they even had any. He was on the verge of sprinting to the corner store to buy some when he found it. Triumphant, he opened it up and pulled about a three-foot piece off the roll.

He taped the plastic to the doorframe at the height of Ryu's head. He checked it; he himself could fit under it without ducking, but Ryu would run his face right into it.

Noya stood back and put his hands on his hips. He grinned again and glanced at the clock. The pizza had to be almost here.

He waded through the remains of one of Ryu's earlier pranks – little pieces of paper, shredded to confetti. These had fallen on Noya as he'd walked into the kitchen this morning, and neither of them had bothered to clean it up.

It had started the previous night, with a short-sheeted bed. To be fair, that one had backfired on Ryu as well, and Noya would have been willing to let it go, but the next morning he'd found that his deodorant had been replaced with cream cheese, and then there was the cascade of paper from the kitchen door, and Noya decided that he couldn't just sit idly by and allow these atrocities to continue.

He hadn't struck right away. He'd been biding his time today. He'd gotten Ryu back with a McDonald's box full of vegetables at lunch, but he wasn't done yet. Oh, no.

He opened the house door just in time to find a girl there, holding a pizza, with her fist raised to knock. She smiled brightly and lowered her hand.

“Just in time,” Noya said, handing her the money.

“Have a good evening,” she replied.

“Oh, I will,” he muttered to himself as he shut the door. “I certainly will.”

He carried the pizza into the kitchen and set it down on the table. He opened the box and set plates out, and glasses.

He sat down at the table.

“RYU!” he bellowed. “GOT PIZZA.”

Just as he'd expected, he heard running footsteps from down the hall. He sat back and waited.

Ryu came bolting around the corner, towards the door – and then his head snapped back, and the plastic wrapped around his face.

Noya busted out laughing as Ryu staggered to a stop, and laughed even harder as Ryu glared at him with plastic-stretched features.

“R-Ryu,” he wheezed, tears in his eyes. “Ryu, you look like such a f-fucking idiot – Wh – why the _fuck_ did you run so fast, oh my god –”

Slowly, Ryu reached up and peeled the plastic away, but his expression did not change. He squinted at Noya as he sat down across from him at the table.

Noya got a hold of himself and pushed the pizza box towards him. “H-here,” he said, still giggling. “Have some fucking pizza.”

Ryu squinted at the pizza instead. “It's Tabasco, isn't it?” he growled. “The tomato sauce.”

“No, dammit, it's tomato,” Noya said. “Eat some.”

Ryu cautiously moved his hand over each piece in turn, looking to Noya's face for a reaction on each one. Noya kept as straight a face as he could.

“Just take one,” he said, when this had gone on for almost a minute. “It's gonna get cold.”

Ryu took the piece closest to Noya and bit into it carefully, braced for impact. He chewed it quickly and swallowed, and then eyed Noya suspiciously.

“It's normal pizza,” he said.

“Well, no,” Noya said. “It's double-sausage-pepperoni with pineapple on half of it. Nobody likes that shit. But – yeah, no Tabasco.”

“Why have you done this,” Ryu said, in an accusatory tone. “What are you plotting.”

Noya snorted. “Nothing else would have gotten you through that doorway fast enough that you wouldn't see the plastic wrap,” he explained. “I promise you, the pizza is completely innocent.”

“I should have seen another goddamn doorway thing coming,” Ryu grumbled as he began to eat. “Oldest tricks in the book.”

Noya grinned at him. “You really should have,” he teased.

They ate the entire pizza in about half an hour. Noya belched loudly and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. He sighed. Happiness was a belly full of pizza.

“So,” Ryu said. “Movie, or something?”

“Sounds great,” he said. “I'll choose one. You get food.”

They moved sluggishly, full as they were of pizza. Noya chose a movie at random and put it in the player, and then hauled himself to the couch and collapsed there, in front of his rigged bowl of M&Ms.

He heard the refrigerator open. “Uh,” Ryu called out. “Yuu?”

“Hmm.”

“...Why is everything in the fridge looking at me?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You. You fucking. You stuck googly eyes on everything in the goddamn fridge.”

“It looks better that way.”

“Goddammit.”

A few minutes later, Ryu entered the living room with a google-eyed two-liter of Pepsi and a package of Oreos. He set these down on the coffee table and grabbed a handful of candies from the bowl.

Noya couldn't suppress a smile as Ryu popped them into his mouth, chewed, and then stopped – eyes wide. He looked sharply over at Noya, who was already snickering to himself, arms over his face.

“You _evil_ ,” Ryu hissed, kicking him. “How – euegh – how _could_ you?”

He spat the offending mixture of chocolate and fruit into a napkin and left it on the coffee table. He'd get it later. For now, he was too lazy to do anything about it.

He flopped down beside Noya and looked him in the eye.

“Truce?” he murmured.

Noya kissed his nose. “Fine,” he said. “Who short-sheets their own bed, dumbass?”

“Hey, it did work.”

They sat up and leaned against each other as the movie began. Ryu wrapped one arm around Noya's shoulder, and with the other hand carefully picked the M&Ms out of the Skittles.

Noya was almost nodding off. He reached for the Oreos and bit into it.

He felt Ryu start laughing beside him before he'd really realized what was up.

He spat out the Oreo and sat up straight, now fully awake. He scowled at Ryu, who only smiled innocently back.

“Toothpaste,” Noya stated. “Toothpaste.”

“Minty fresh,” Ryu elaborated.

Noya stood up on the couch and bodyslammed him.

“The rest are fine,” Ryu protested, unable to free himself. “I only had time to do the one, I swear!”

“Well, neither of us are eating any more, because I'm not getting off you till this movie's over,” Noya growled. “So it doesn't matter.”

“I can't even see the damn screen.”

“Neither can I,” Noya said, dropping his head down on the slope from Ryu's neck to his shoulder. “But I'm about to go into food-coma mode, so I don't really think it matters.”

“Yeah,” Ryu yawned. “Same.”

Neither of them paid any attention to the movie. They both fell asleep at some point or another, and only woke up when the title screen music started blaring, on a thirty-second loop. Noya rolled over, reached for the remote, turned the TV off, and then rolled back.

“Still not moving,” he said.

“Me either,” Ryu mumbled, half-asleep. He pulled Noya over again and kept his arms wrapped around his middle.

“Night, Ryu.”

“Night.”


	4. Umbrella (Tanaka/Nishinoya, Haikyuu!!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous.

49\. Umbrella

There wasn't a shelter at this stop. It didn't get used that often, so it wasn't really a wonder. Noya didn't even use it that often. Most of the time, he just made Ryu drive him home. He'd wait for Ryu to get off work, sitting on either the hood or the roof of the car, playing a game on his phone for the half-hour difference in their shifts. When Ryu would run across the street from his work, Noya would give him a hard time for taking so long.  
Today, though, Noya was tired. Too tired to walk around the block to where Ryu had parked. Too tired to even care when it started raining. He looked up at the sky and sighed.  
This just hadn't been a great day. He couldn't explain it, really. He'd woken up this morning feeling a little bit off, and the feeling had persisted all day. And then it had just been one stupid little thing after another; realizing he'd forgotten to bring money to buy lunch (and his phone as well), running across town to get some money from Ryu, being unable to find him, and then being late getting back, so the manager had yelled at him; being irritable because he was hungry, snapping at a customer, having the manager yell at him again…  
None of those things on their own would have made for a ruined day. Somehow, though, the combination of all if it did the trick. That, plus the underlying worrying about rent and bills and all the things they had to pay for and didn't have the money for...  
A raindrop landed directly in his eye. He closed it and glared up at the sky. What an asshole.  
He turned his attention back to the road. The bus should be here in a few minutes. Hopefully Ryu wouldn't miss him. Hopefully he wouldn't wait too long before heading home without him.  
He couldn't explain it, really. He loved being around Ryu. It always made him feel better. Today, he kind of felt like he just wanted to be by himself and stew in his bad mood a little.  
The rain picked up quickly. The drops were huge, smacking the pavement and Noya with completely unnecessary force. His clothes were soaked through soon enough. He didn't have any idea what time it was, or how much longer he'd have to wait. He supposed he could just walk home. It might be faster than waiting for the damn bus.  
He closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head down. The rain hit the back of his neck now.   
Tomorrow would be better. He probably just needed some sleep. No big deal…  
“...Yuu?”  
Noya jumped a little and looked up.  
Ryu was standing in front of him, with an umbrella and a confused expression.  
Noya sat up straight and smiled at him. “Hey, Ryu,” he said. “What's up?”  
“Well, you weren't at the car when I got there, so...” Ryu shrugged. He frowned. “Why are you sitting out here in the rain like this, you idiot?”  
He held out the umbrella so it covered both of them.  
Noya looked down at his soaked clothes and laughed. “No real point in that,” he said. “The, ah, the damage has been done here.”  
Ryu huffed and sat down beside him.  
“Bench is wet,” Noya said, too late to be of any help.  
“Hadn't noticed,” Ryu mumbled. “What's wrong?”  
Noya sideeyed him. “Nothin',” he muttered, looking at his hands. “Fine.”  
“You're sitting here in the rain waiting for a bus instead of in the car, halfway home already. You've been acting weird all day. What's up?”  
Noya took a deep breath. “Nothing,” he said, turning to look Ryu right in the eye. “Really, nothing. It just… I had a bad day. Really. It's nothing you need to worry about.”  
“I'm gonna worry about it anyway,” Ryu said. “Here – hold this.”  
He handed Noya the umbrella, and then shrugged his way out of his jacket. He draped it around Noya's shoulders.  
“Aren't you cold?” Noya asked, pulling it close.  
“Not as cold as you are. What were you thinking, not bringing a coat?”  
“I was thinking the weather forecast didn't say it would rain and therefore I'd be okay.”  
Ryu snorted and took the umbrella back. Noya leaned against him and rested his head on his shoulder.  
They sat there in silence for a little while. Noya was glad that Ryu didn't suggest getting up right away. He was warm, and Noya really didn't feel like moving. He still felt like crap, and tired as hell, but he felt a little more okay right now.  
Ryu was the one to talk first.  
“You're sure,” he said. “You're sure it's nothing I need to worry about.”  
“There's nothing you don't already know about.”  
“You wanna talk about anything?”  
“Nah. Nah, I'm just really tired.”  
“You're –”   
“Yes, Ryu, I'm really sure.”  
Ryu wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him a little. “Okay,” he said. “Just as long as you'll tell me when something is wrong.”  
“Of course.”  
“'Cause like. I walked over here and you were looking all moody and then as soon as I said something you looked up with this stupid grin on your face. Don't fucking do that.”  
“Do what? Smile?”  
“No,” Ryu grumbled. “I mean – don't smile when there's something wrong, okay? I know you do that a lot, and I know… money's a little tight right now, and things aren't easy, and maybe there's nothing I can do at all, but I still want you to tell me whenever there's something wrong.”  
Noya looked up at him with a vague smile. “Okay, Ryu,” he said. “Okay.”  
Ryu nodded jerkily, his cheeks a little red. He didn't get deep like that very often. Neither did Noya.  
Ryu kissed his temple, and then drew away with a disgusted noise.  
“Your hair gel is all over the place,” he said.  
“Damn rain,” Noya replied.  
“We should get going,” Ryu said. “Or did you still want to take the bus home? You want me to leave you alone for a bit?”  
Noya smiled, eyes closed. Suddenly, the bus seemed like the least-inviting place in the world. He didn't want to leave.  
“Nah. Let's go home. Carry me.”  
“I'm not carrying you.”  
“Why not?”  
“You're too heavy.”  
“I weigh a hundred and fifteen pounds.”  
“I am not a strong man.”  
“Fine,” Noya groaned, standing up. “Let's go, then.”  
They made their way to the car, with Ryu still hugging his shoulders. They got in, and Noya leaned his seat back and used Ryu's jacket as a blanket. He closed his eyes.  
“You get some rest,” Ryu said. “Maybe I'll carry you from the car to the house.”  
“That would be lovely, thank you,” Noya mumbled sleepily. “I'm weak.”  
Noya pretended to be asleep for most of the ride home. He watched Ryu with his eyes mostly closed. Ryu turned on the radio, turned it down really quiet, and started singing to himself as they went along. Noya liked his voice when he sang – it was a little rough and gravelly. He couldn't explain it, but he really, really liked it.   
Things seemed a little bit more okay here, warm inside their car, underneath Ryu's jacket, listening to him sing brainless party music and mumble wherever the lyrics escaped him. Even with the trash day he'd had, and the crap they still hadn't figured out all the way, Noya felt like things were all right, just then.  
The rain drummed on the roof and Ryu's thumbs drummed on the steering wheel. It was the perfect atmosphere for Noya to fall right to sleep, but he stayed awake the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt list: http://i-homeostasis.tumblr.com/post/121631539569/the-original-100-themes-lists  
> (this is my blog. :D)


	5. A Place To Belong (Killua & Gon, Hunter x Hunter - platonic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by dontdowhatihavedone.tumblr.com.
> 
> ****WARNING: Abuse mention****

81\. A Place To Belong

 

For most of his life, Killua thought he knew what love was. It was simple; his family loved him. They showed it all the time. If they didn't love him, why would they work so hard to train him – to condition him to be able to defend himself? If they didn't love him, what was the point of all that? It hurt, of course, but it was _supposed_ to. That was how it was, Killua learned quickly. He didn't spend long crying over it when it hurt, because crying was for children, and he wasn't a child. Zoldycks grew up quickly. He couldn't fall behind.

He learned to shove those stupid, childish feelings aside, and before too long he took everything they threw at him with a neutral face and a clear head. He even learned to like it, because it meant they cared. They sent him out on assassination missions soon after this began, and he soon became good at them. Bypassing security, fighting guards, finally stopping the heart of the target – it was the best thing in the world. It was one of the few things Killua actually cared about for most of his early life.

But even that began to wear thin. He found himself bored during his assignments. The thrill of the chase and the kill began to diminish, and the buried emotions started to show through.

He saw kids his age while he was out of the house. They smiled, and they were happy, and they didn't seem to have a care in the world.

He watched them from behind a tree. They played together, and laughed. It was all so innocent. And he heard that they called themselves 'friends'. No blood, no pain, nothing but happiness.

Showing that much emotion, so plainly – wasn't that weak? They were so weak. He could rip them in half with his bare hands. They wouldn't last a second against him.

They tossed a ball around and chased each other. It was the stupidest thing he'd ever seen.

But for some reason… he found himself wanting that for himself.

He finished that day's assignment. He didn't enjoy it. He went home and the day ended without event. He didn't mention anything to his family. Even if he could have gotten to Alluka, he wouldn't have told her either. It was just too _wrong_ of an idea, that he wanted friends. Friends weren't a thing that his family had. They weren't things he could have.

The idea that there could be affection without pain – it was so unbelievably foreign, he almost couldn't think of it.

 - - -

Killua now stood in Gon's bedroom. Gon was downstairs, with his Aunt Mito and his grandmother, helping them clean up.

Gon's room was a lot tidier than Killua had expected it to be. Gon was such a wild, disorderly person, it was odd to see that his bedroom was clean.

In the back of his mind, Killua felt very ill at ease. This could still be a trap. This could still be an elaborate trick… Gon couldn't honestly want him here, couldn't honestly trust him in his home, with his family…

He tried to shake the thoughts away. He focused on what Leorio had said, during the Hunter exam. Gon and Killua were friends. They were _friends._ They could trust each other.

Why couldn't he shake the idea that something was wrong? He even _wanted_ it to be true… why couldn't he convince himself?

There was only one bed in the room. Killua cautiously climbed into it. He knew right away that he wouldn't be able sleep for quite some time – perhaps the whole night, with the way things were going inside his head right then – but he couldn't very well just sit up and make it obvious. If this was actually a trap, he couldn't show that he knew about it.

He lay down in Gon's bed and covered himself up. He closed his eyes and waited.

_It's not a trap. What are you worried about? Here, of all places – here, everything's okay._

Gon entered the room not too much later.

“Killua, are you – oh, hey, you're asleep,” he said, lowering his voice halfway through his sentence. He walked over to the bed and poked Killua's shoulder.

“You really are asleep,” he sighed. “I was gonna set up a little bed for you, but… hm. I guess I won't wake you up…”

Killua heard him walk away, around to the foot of the bed. The mattress dipped a little. With a jolt, he realized that Gon was climbing into the bed as well.

Without moving a muscle, Killua prepared to jump out of the bed and run.

Gon flopped down on the bed beside him, completely harmlessly. He took in and let out a long, deep breath.

“G'night, Killua,” Gon said sleepily. “Today was really fun. I have a whole bunch more stuff I want to show you tomorrow! I'm really excited.

“Thanks for coming here with me, Killua – I hope you're having fun. I am! You're fun to be with. Really.

“Good night.”

Killua listened, a little stunned, as Gon's breathing and heartbeat slowed. He was asleep within seconds.

Killua sat up and stared down at Gon, who had fallen asleep with his back mere inches from Killua's. He was a bit thrown by what had just happened.

Not one suspicious move. Gon had made himself absolutely vulnerable just now. Killua could detect no trace of deceit in Gon's relaxed position.

Not that Gon was a danger to Killua, but… he hadn't even tried.

Killua _was_ safe here. Leorio hadn't been lying, or wrong, when he'd said that Gon counted Killua as a friend.

 _See?_ He told himself, triumphantly. _He isn't an enemy. Just like he said… Just like you knew already…_

It was the opposite of what he'd spent his whole life learning. It was the stupid, weak thing he'd wanted from a distance for years. It was _wrong_ for someone like him. Assassins didn't have friends. Assassins didn't let their guards down, _ever_ , not for anything.

But Gon was letting his guard down right now, right next to Killua – he was _sleeping,_ right beside somebody whom he'd seen rip a man's still-beating heart out of his chest.

He knew full well that Killua could kill him without any trouble.

But he also knew that he _wouldn't._

Gon _trusted_ him, Killua realized. It wasn't something he fully understood.

But he wanted to stick around – he wanted to stay with Gon, and learn what trust was, and learn how it felt to have someone care about him without it having to hurt.

Was that okay?

Could he have that?

His family would say no. Illumi already had. Killua almost let this idea take him over again, but he closed his eyes, covered his ears with his hands, and shook his head vigorously.

He was done with his family's ideas. He was _done_ with the life they had decided on for him. He'd decided that already.

He didn't want anything but this – to be in a place where he didn't have to constantly watch his back – to belong – to be with _Gon._

Gon meant safety, and acceptance, and warmth. Killua had never had those things before. He fully realized now that he wanted them, and that he _had_ them.

He had Gon. Gon was right here beside him.

He didn't want to lose that. If he had his way, he never would.

Killua lay down beside him, and stared at the back of his friend's head. He wondered what on earth could have made Gon decide to befriend someone as dangerous as him.

He had many other thoughts, all of them buzzing around and trying to push to the surface, but he suppressed them for now. They could wait.

For now, Killua fell asleep beside his first friend, and slept contentedly all through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA 'I Don't Know If They Shared A Bed That Time They Stayed At Mito's But I'm Pretty Sure They Shared A Bed At Mito's And That This Is Approximately What Went Through Killua's Head During That Time', the fic.


	6. Patience (Killua/Gon, Hunter x Hunter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cute l'il first crushes. What's not to love.
> 
> Requested by astroslinky.tumblr.com

73\. Patience

 

Killua wasn't sure when it started. It didn't feel like something that really _had_ a start; it felt like it had always been there, or that it had started so gradually that he couldn't really define a beginning.

He also hadn't fully realized it was there until now. Right now, as he sat beside Gon on his bed, watching him sleep.

He realized he… _liked_ Gon.

Of course, they'd been friends for a long time now. He'd always liked Gon. But this new realization brought an entirely different kind of liking along with it.

He thought about all the times he'd caught himself smiling absently at the back of Gon's head when he looked the other way. He thought about how much he liked being around him, and how bad he always wanted to see him again whenever they were apart. He thought about how worried he got, watching him in the fights in the arena, even though he knew Gon would win, because he always won.

He thought of the warm feeling in his chest right now. He knew Gon was asleep, but he really wanted to just wake him up and squeeze him as tight as he could.

But that was stupid. It was stupid of him to like Gon. It even scared him a little. Killua didn't usually let himself act like an idiot; he was too purposeful, too focused. In any case, he shouldn't hug Gon at all – he was still pretty beat up.

Right now, though he couldn't help wanting to, somehow. His insides felt like jelly and his head felt full of fuzz. He felt… _stupid_ , but also _happy_ about it.

It was entirely new. He didn't know what to make of it. It almost felt like a sickness, but it also felt… kind of okay.

He had to distract himself.

He leapt up onto the bed and jumped up and down on it a few times. “Gon!” he called out, lightly kicking his best friend as he landed. “Gon! Wake up! We have to go get food!”

Gon opened one eye, already looking as awake as he ever did. He smiled and threw a pillow at Killua, who caught it and threw it right back. Gon caught the pillow with his face and lay there a moment, unmoving, while Killua laughed at him.

“Did you have to do that?” Gon groaned, sitting up and letting the pillow fall off him.

“Yes,” Killua said, jumping on the bed some more. “Get _up._ I'm _starving._ ”

“You can just go to breakfast without me,” Gon said, rubbing his eyes. “I could just catch up… You could let me sleep more…”

Killua wrinkled his nose. “You'd just get lost, idiot,” he said. “I know my way around this place; you don't.”

“Fi-i-i-ine,” Gon said, rolling out of bed. “I guess I need food to heal up, don't I?”

“A lot of it,” Killua replied, “with how fast you heal up.”

Gon nodded enthusiastically as he popped up to his feet. “Right!” he chirped. “How else am I going to get strong enough to fight Hisoka?”

Killua felt his stomach twist a little as he said that. Another stupid feeling.

He knew Gon was strong. He knew that Gon was capable of fighting, and that he was growing more capable all the time, but… he found himself really, really not wanting Gon to fight.

He didn't want to see Gon get hurt again.

Killua knew it wasn't even remotely his fault that his best friend had gotten hurt, but he still felt – ridiculously – that he was at least a little bit responsible. Anything could happen in that arena, and there was nothing a spectator could do about any of it, but…

He shook his head and led the way out of their room. Gon hurried to catch up and ran around in front of him, stopping in front of him and looking back with his gold eyes gleaming.

“Race you,” he challenged.

Killua grinned, and they took off running.

\- - -

The two of them sat outside in the sun, eating ice cream for breakfast because there weren't any adults around to tell them not to. Killua kept catching himself staring at Gon – _idiot_ – over and over. He'd look away, but only when Gon started to turn his head to look at Killua. Killua didn't want to get caught looking at him, but he wanted to look at him a lot.

Gon actually caught him one time.

“What?” he asked, even as Killua looked hurriedly away, off into the distance.

“What what?” Killua mumbled in response, feeling himself going a little pink in the face, leaning his chin casually on one hand. “What.”

He could see Gon scowl out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, I know what this is…” he nodded.

“Oh?” Killua felt his cheeks go even redder.

“Yeah!” Gon said confidently. “I have ice cream on my face, don't I?”

Relieved but also exasperated, Killua looked at him again, and found him smiling.

“Oh, yeah,” Killua said. “All over. Everywhere. It's even in your hair.”

“Well, you have some on _your_ face,” Gon retorted. “Right on your nose.”

Killua crossed his eyes to look, which drew a laugh from Gon. He could, indeed, see a speck of ice cream on the tip of his nose.

“You can cross your eyes?” Gon asked. “You look silly.”

Killua liked hearing Gon laugh, so he smiled and did another of his dumb tricks; he stuck his tongue out and licked the ice cream off it.

“You mean you can't?” he asked, as Gon laughed harder.

Gon proceeded to try and cross his eyes, but he couldn't manage it. Killua taught him the trick of holding up one finger and moving it closer to his nose, but even that didn't work all the way. Gon didn't really seem to mind that he couldn't do it, and Killua just liked watching his stupid faces, and listening to him laugh.

He realized he didn't even know what he wanted to come of these new feelings. He didn't know if he wanted anything to come of them at all. As far as he could tell, he just wanted more of the same. He just wanted to be close to Gon, and goof off the way they always did. He wanted to laugh with him, and be happy with him, just like he was now, outside the Heaven's Arena, eating ice cream and making dumb faces.

Maybe all he wanted was for all this to never change.

Though, he reasoned, he could probably do without the butterflies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New page on my blog specifically for request guidelines!
> 
> http://i-homeostasis.tumblr.com/prompts
> 
> Everything you need to know. Don't be shy. :D I'm enjoying writing these.


	7. Out Of Time (Nishinoya/Azumane, Haikyuu!!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by astroslinky.tumblr.com

39\. Out Of Time

 

Noya had waited such a stupidly long time. Or could he call it waiting, when all he'd really done all this time was put it off? He'd always told himself it wasn't the right time yet. He'd do it next week. The week after, the week after – and suddenly it was March, and he hadn't said a word, and it would be too late after today.

So it had to be today, if it was going to happen at all.

He stared into space all through classes that day. He focused even less on his work than normal. All he could do was think about all that wasted time.

He'd hung out with Asahi a lot over the past year, so at least in that respect he'd done okay. He'd made it pretty clear that he liked spending time with him. They'd even gone and gotten food after practice sometimes – sometimes accompanied by other members of the team, though, as time went on, it turned out to be just them more and more often. And several times, while they were just eating junk food and laughing over nothing, Noya found himself on the verge of just _saying it._

But he couldn't. Not yet, not yet.

He'd admired Asahi since their very first encounter, at volleyball tryouts on Noya's first day, and he hadn't ever stopped. Asahi was strong, and, despite his threatening appearance (Noya had never been scared of him for a second), he was helpful and kind. Noya had been fascinated the first time he'd accidentally scared Asahi by screaming out loud after he'd spiked the ball. Noya had been _tiny_ in his first year of high school. It was _hilarious_ to see somebody so much taller than him get scared by him like that.

Noya had been the one to decide that they were going to start hanging out. It hadn't taken him long to decide he wanted to get to know Asahi better. He was just a great guy to be around. He was friendly, and funny, and even a little outgoing once he warmed up to people.

Plus he was cute. Noya was sold.

It took a bit of work to stop Asahi being afraid of him, to start with. Once Asahi had gotten used to him, to some degree, he'd started to relax. He laughed easier, he was more honest, he was less guarded with Noya, and it really felt great. He'd catch himself staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He looked really, really good with a carefree smile.

After the incident with the broken broom had been more or less forgotten, and they'd both rejoined the team – well, Asahi was always cautious around him, and that had probably made it worse. Noya had to tone himself down a little bit to make sure he didn't scare him off.

He'd spent a lot of time practicing block-follow during his suspension, to make sure nothing like that incident ever happened again. It had been his fault anyway… Maybe he shouldn't have pushed Asahi around like that. Maybe he shouldn't have yelled. It hadn't helped anything. He was still kicking himself for what he did that day, a full year later. Asahi had been mad enough at himself after that game. Noya shouldn't have acted that way. He was a stupid, impulsive kid.

Hence the endless block-follow practice. He'd wanted Asahi to play as hard as he could in every game, and if Noya could help his confidence in any way, damn, he'd do it. Asahi was amazing. Literally everyone could see that but him, and Noya wanted to shove that knowledge in his face as often as possible. He'd take a few bruises and pulled muscles for that any day. Rarely could Noya make words work in his favor. He'd tried to make up for it in actions.

But not today. He couldn't waste any more time on that today.

This was the last day of classes for the third years, and while Noya knew that Asahi wouldn't vanish off the face of the earth or anything after today, it would be a lot harder for them to meet up, and they certainly wouldn't see each other every day anymore. Asahi would be off doing whatever it was he'd decided to do, and Noya would be stuck here at school for another year.

So, really, no matter what the outcome was, Noya had already waited too long to tell him.

He still wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to say. Noya wasn't a nervous person, and he definitely wasn't worried about telling him, but his stomach still felt a little weird whenever he thought about it.

Probably because he'd been constantly telling himself he'd wing it, like he always did. He was good at making stuff up as he went along, but maybe he should have stopped to think about this one. This was his last real chance, after all – and he didn't want to screw it up, like he was afraid he would.

And then, seemingly minutes after he'd sat down to begin his day, the end-of-day bell rang. Noya stared, in disbelief, at the clock for a few stunned seconds – and then he stood up and bolted from the classroom.

He had to catch Asahi before he got to the club room. Noya was a really confident person, but he still didn't want to do this in front of everybody. Asahi would hate that too.

Noya had to get him on his own, and he had to do it pretty quick.

He sprinted down the hall, probably knocking into people, and skidded to a stop outside of Asahi's classroom.

It was practically empty already. There were only a few third-years left in there, and none of them were Asahi.

He nodded and started running again, craning his neck to see over people's heads. Asahi usually stood out, he was so damn tall. Where the hell _was_ he?

Before long Noya's sprinting brought him outside to the courtyard, where he stopped and spun around.

And there he was – at the opposite end of the courtyard already, walking in the direction of the club room.

“Asahi! Hey!” Noya called out, even though Asahi couldn't possibly hear him from this far away. He started running again, continuing to call Asahi's name as he went.

Asahi heard him just before he got there and stopped and turned to face him.

“Noya,” he said, with a slight smile. “How are you?”

“I'm good,” Noya chirped, stuffing his hands in his pockets and grinning. “How was your last day?”

Asahi raised his eyebrows. He looked nervous.

“It was… weird,” he said. “Really weird. I guess I should have been ready for this, but… I still can't believe it's my last day.”

“Headed to the club room?” Noya asked.

“Yeah… Just thought I'd say goodbye to the place. And all of you, you know,” Asahi shrugged, ducking his head.

He did that sometimes, when he was uncomfortable. And there went the other tell: he scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, hey, it's not like you're dying or anything,” Noya said. “You can come back any time. You're welcome here.”

“I know,” Asahi smiled. “I'll definitely come back. Gotta come see you at every game.”

They'd started walking again. They were on their way to the club room. Much closer and they ran the risk of running into the others.

A little more room for subtlety would have been nice, but Noya didn't have time for that. His heart was thudding a little.

_Here goes._

“Hey, Asahi?” he said.

“Hm?”

“Stop for a sec.”

They stopped walking, and Asahi looked down at him. Noya looked at his shoes. He had no idea what to say.

_Oh, shit._

_NOW you're shy._

“What is it?” Asahi prompted him.

“I –” Noya choked, and coughed. His cheeks went a little bit pink. _Shit._

He put his hands on his hips and breathed deep. _Chill out, chill out,_ he told himself. _Christ, it's just Asahi. Calm DOWN._

“...Noya?”

Noya looked up at him, but couldn't look him in the eye. He kept his eyes fixed somewhere near Asahi's shoulder as he went on.

“There's something I kinda wanted to tell you. You know. Before you leave,” Noya mumbled.

“...Okay?” Asahi was obviously confused. He rubbed the back of his neck again. “What's up?”

Noya puffed out his cheeks and looked him in the eye. Asahi smiled, nervously.

“I, uh…” Noya stammered. “I just wanted to say that. I. I um.”

“Are you okay?” Asahi asked. “You haven't blinked for like a minute and a half.”

“I'm fine,” Noya laughed. “Don't break my momentum, god.”

“What?”

_One more deep breath. Just do it._

“…I really like you,” Noya said, in a rush. “I just wanted to – I wanted you to know, that's all.”

He was really glad he'd managed to keep eye contact. The abrupt change in Asahi's expression was well worth the nerves.

Asahi went pink and looked away, and then quickly back at him.

“Y… you mean, you…” he suttered.

Noya grinned. “Uh. Yeah, yeah, I mean…”

They looked at each other steadily for a while. Asahi didn't seem to be breathing.

Oh, god. It hadn't even occurred to him that Asahi would have to say something back to him. He hadn't thought about the very real possibility that Asahi might turn him down. He hadn't thought about an aftermath. Why was he so stupid.

“You okay?” Noya asked with a smile.

“Yeah, I…” Asahi replied. “I… Really? You… Like me?”

“A lot, yeah,” Noya said. He reached up and stroked his hair back. “I have for a while. So – like, you're graduating and everything, so I just thought I'd –”

“You've liked me… how long?”

“Like two years?” Noya laughed. “It's not a huge deal. I just –”

“What did you wait so long for?” Asahi burst out.

Noya's eyes snapped onto him in disbelief. Asahi pressed his lips together and went even more red.

“I mean –” Asahi stammered. “You – the day I graduate? Why didn't you do this a long time ago? We could've –”

Noya's heart leapt.

“…Yeah?” Noya said he didn't say anything for a second. The more red in the face Asahi got, the bigger Noya's smile.

Asahi glanced at him and then hid his face in his hands.

“Don't look at me like that,” he groaned. “I feel so stupid right now.”

“Hey, don't,” Noya said. “Really – hey, I didn't mean to embarrass you.”

Asahi looked at him from between his fingers.

“So,” Noya said. “You… you wanna make this a thing, or…?”

“I do, yeah,” Asahi nodded. “Yeah.”

Noya laughed quietly and pulled Asahi's hands away from his face. “Don't hide,” he said. “I'm the one who was being stupid, here.”

There were tears in Asahi's eyes. He laughed shakily a few times, and rubbed his face with his sleeve.

“I'm all shaky,” Asahi wavered.

“Hah. Sorry.” Noya wrapped his arms tight around Asahi and held on until he laughed and hugged him back.

“So,” Noya said. “You want to meet up for a movie next week, and dinner, or something?”

“Okay,” Asahi replied, and they let go.

They stood there for a second in silence, staring at each other, smiling a little.

“So,” Noya said after a moment. “Club room?”

Asahi nodded.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Asahi said. “But… God, I'm gonna cry leaving this place. I don't want to go. I'm gonna miss all this.”

“Like I said,” Noya said. “Come back all the time.”

Asahi smiled down at him. “I will,” he said. “I will, Yuu.”

They turned to go. Noya let Asahi go a little ways in front of him, and then jumped on his back, clinging on like a koala.

“…Really?” Asahi laughed.

“If you're gonna be my boyfriend, this is the kind of shit you're going to have to deal with,” Noya sighed, resting his chin on Asahi's shoulder.

“I'll keep that in mind,” Asahi said. Noya could hear a smile in his voice.

Noya closed his eyes.

This had gone really, really well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt submission guidelines: http://i-homeostasis.tumblr.com/prompts
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's submitted a prompt already! :D I've done every one so far, and I've had a lot of fun. I hope these are fun for you guys to read as well. :D
> 
> can you tell by the fact that this one is miles longer than the others that asanoya is my otp lol


	8. Perfection (Oikawa & Iwaizumi, Haikyuu!! - platonic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not requested.

47\. Perfection

 

Oikawa was always the first one into the gym and the last one to leave. Iwaizumi generally showed up soon after him and left around the same time. He never left the gym without Oikawa, and he had good reason.

He didn't like the idea of leaving Oikawa to his own devices. He worked way too hard if someone wasn't around to tell him to stop. He was obsessed with improvement, and Iwaizumi felt that in anybody else, that was a good quality. It was important to be constantly striving to become a better player. But with Oikawa, well – he went overboard. A lot.

For a while, he'd trusted Oikawa on his own. He hadn't thought that it would really be a problem. If he wanted to spend more time on the court, the team would only benefit from it. He'd leave Oikawa there, calling over his shoulder for him to lock up and everything when he left, and then he would start thinking about other things.

Then came the news that the team was going to play in a practice match against Karasuno. And then came the white knee supporter on Oikawa's right leg.

Oikawa didn't act like there was anything wrong, as he sat on the sidelines, just watching them practice with that weird smile on his face, and the rest of the team knew better than to try and get a straight answer out of him about it.

So for that entire practice, Iwaizumi had eyed the braced knee, too mad to even form coherent thoughts.

He'd pushed himself. He'd pushed himself because he was too damn worried about playing against that stupid Kageyama kid.

When practice ended, Oikawa joined the group for a last discussion, and then everyone started to pack up and leave. He volunteered to stay and clean up, and to lock the gym. Iwaizumi said he would stay with him. Oikawa tried to tell him to leave, along with everyone else who said they would stay, but he stood his ground. Everyone left, and they were alone.

Oikawa walked wrong as he moved around the gym. Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed, and glared at him until he finally looked over at him.

“Did you stay behind just to watch me work, Iwa-chan?” he teased.

“No, idiot,” Iwaizumi grumbled back. “What the hell happened to your knee.”

Oikawa paused and straightened up, his back turned to Iwaizumi. For a moment, he didn't say anything.

“…Nothing, really,” he sighed, waving a dismissive hand. “It was hurting a bit after practice the other day, so I thought I'd give it a rest for a little while.”

Oikawa had spent the longest time in the gym of anyone on the team that previous week. Iwaizumi was kicking himself. He should have realized.

Iwaizumi squared his shoulders.

“You were working too hard,” he shot at him. “You've been working yourself too hard for months. You know you have. And just recently – this is because of the match with Karasuno, isn't it? This is about Kageyama, isn't –”

“ _No,_ ” Oikawa snapped, interrupting him. Iwaizumi saw his hands clench into fists. There was a strained silence as Oikawa took a few deep breaths.

“No,” he repeated, after composing himself. “No, Iwa-chan, this isn't about Karasuno, or Kageyama. I promise you that.”

“Then what _is_ it?” Iwaizumi demanded.

Finally, Oikawa turned around to look at him. He smiled, and there wasn't a trace of truth in that smile.

“It's just about me,” he said, cheerful and lighthearted as always. “I'm just making myself the best I can be.”

Iwaizumi stared at him, and narrowed his eyes. Oikawa didn't stop with that stupid smirk.

Fine. He wouldn't let anything slip. Iwaizumi saw how it was.

“Just rest it, okay?” he grumbled, breaking the eye contact with a shake of his head. “We want you in good shape for that practice game, okay?”

“Of course, Iwa-chan, don't be silly,” Oikawa said.

That was the end of their discussion. Later, Iwaizumi would wish he'd pushed the point a bit more, but there was nothing he could have done.

\- - -

The match was close.

They'd battled their way through several other teams to get this far. The interhighs this year had been tough. Nothing they couldn't handle, of course, but there were some good teams out there.

Karasuno was even better than they'd been during that practice match. Oikawa wasn't worried, though; Tobio and his little orange friend weren't going to be able to do that freak spike successfully forever. Seijou was already catching up to them. They couldn't have too many other tricks up their sleeves, and certainly not so quickly.

He was confident in his team. They'd worked hard to get where they were. Each and every one of them was strong.

He spun the ball between his hands and bounced it off the floor a few times. He saw Iwaizumi look over his shoulder at him.

Of course he'd ignored his advice. He couldn't slow down. He had to strive for perfection. Iwaizumi meant the very best for Oikawa, and he knew that. But Iwaizumi worried needlessly, he really did. Oikawa knew what he was doing. He knew his limit.

He had to push that limit. Otherwise he would never get any better.

He wasn't perfect yet. He had a ways to go still.

He hadn't been gifted with any sort of extraordinary talent.

How else was he supposed to reach his full potential than by charging recklessly on ahead?

Oikawa gripped the volleyball tight and eyed the opposite side of the court, looking for holes. He shouldn't serve anywhere near the tiny #4, that much was certain… If he could angle it properly, there could be a workable gap between #5 and Tobio…

Yes. There. He could send it there.

He backed up, far behind the back line. He held the ball out in front of him.

Then, in carefully-rehearsed form, he took those running steps forward, and leapt into the air.

He threw the ball up, raised his hand, and hit it as hard as he could.

The ball sailed through the air. He watched it go as he fell back towards the ground.

As he did so, though, he messed up.

This landing, this landing he'd done a thousand times before – he _messed it up._

His right knee twisted beneath him, and he swore he heard it _pop_ sickeningly.

It didn't hurt. That was what stunned him most. It _didn't hurt_.

His knee buckled beneath him and he hit the ground _hard_. He fell sideways, and his head collided with the wooden court floor.

A gasp from the spectators. His name, called by his teammates and coaches. People standing up, craning their heads to look at him.

Iwaizumi was right there, at his side. Patting his shoulder, helping him sit back up.

“You okay? Oikawa, bud, look at me. Hey.”

Oikawa looked at him. He felt dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Iwaizumi demanded again, frowning hard.

“Yeah.” Oikawa's own voice sounded far away. “I'm just fine.”

“Okay. Try that serve again, okay?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Okay.” Iwaizumi put out a hand to help him stand up. Oikawa took it, and started with weight on his left knee. That worked. That worked fine. He was fine –

His right knee crumpled under him as he put weight on it. Iwaizumi caught him before he could hit the floor again.

Oikawa desperately tried to get his leg to support his weight. He clung to Iwaizumi and struggled to stand upright, and it just _didn't work. He could not get his leg to work._

Cold, sick fear filled him up. He hung on even tighter.

“Oikawa, dammit, what are you doing?” Iwaizumi demanded. “Stand up –”

“ _It doesn't work,_ ” he wavered. His eyes were filling with tears. “Iwa – my leg, it – _I can't…_ ”

And then there were coaches and standby medics around him, demanding to know what was wrong. And he couldn't say anything about it, because he was just too damn _scared._ He sat there, pale and shaky, while Iwaizumi tried to explain what was going on.

Sooner or later there was an ambulance, and then the white walls of a hospital. And there were people moving his leg, extending his knee, asking _does this hurt, does this hurt._ And there were words he didn't fully understand, and only one thing he did.

Six to nine months recovery. Minimal activity until surgery.

And then they sent him home.

He didn't bother to check his phone for texts from the team.

He didn't want to know whether or not they'd won.

\- - -

Oikawa didn't answer the door when Iwaizumi came over the next day. Iwaizumi came in anyway, calling out that he was doing so as he opened the door. Nobody seemed to be home, but Oikawa had to be.

He hadn't been at school or practice that day.

He found Oikawa lying on the couch with an ice pack on his knee, staring blankly at the TV.

“Oikawa,” he said, gently, trying not to startle him.

Oikawa turned his gaze to his best friend, and then away without any change in expression. “Iwa-chan,” he said. “You've come to see me.”

“I have,” Iwaizumi nodded. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

He walked over to the couch and knelt down near Oikawa's head.

They stared at each other, without words. There were too many thoughts running through his head.

God, he wanted to yell at this idiot. He wanted to scream at him – _hit_ him, for pushing himself so hard. He'd gone way too far this time, and Iwaizumi felt like he could have stopped him, or at least slowed him down, but he hadn't even tried.

He wanted to break down and cry.

Because Oikawa was hurt. Oikawa had hurt himself, and he wouldn't be able to finish out the year on the team with him, and he might not _ever_ be able to get back on the court.

Far from achieving perfection, Oikawa had made it so that he couldn't even play anymore.

He stared at Oikawa, frowning, thinking all of this but saying none of it, when suddenly Oikawa's apathetic face crumpled.

“…Iwa-chan,” Oikawa croaked, eyes suddenly full of tears. “Hajime, I…”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa moved at the same time. They wrapped their arms around each other and held tight.

Oikawa cried into Iwaizumi's shoulder, clinging to his shirt with all his strength. Iwaizumi had to fight tears back himself, as he quietly assured him that it would all be okay.

But these reassurances didn't work, because they both knew they were completely empty words. They didn't know if it was okay. It certainly wasn't okay right now, and they had absolutely no way of knowing yet whether it would be okay later on.

As he held his sobbing best friend close, Iwaizumi wished he could have done more.

Oikawa felt _worthless._ He knew that much without having to ask. He'd taken so much out of himself to be able to progress as far as he had, and now…

Now it was all over, wasn't it?

Iwaizumi couldn't hold the tears back anymore, once he'd thought that.

“You _idiot,_ ” he wept into Oikawa's shoulder, holding him still tighter. “You were great already. You were just fine. You… _you…”_

“But I wasn't… I wasn't the _best_ ,” Oikawa wavered. “What the hell's the point in trying if you can't be the best?”

“ _Nobody is the best,_ ” he snapped. “ _There's always going to be someone better than you. That's just how it is!_ ”

Oikawa had nothing to say to that. Iwaizumi couldn't articulate anything more.

They held each other like that for a long time, even after they'd worn themselves out, and run out of tears.

They didn't want to let go.

 


	9. Rebirth (9 & 12, Zankyou no Terror - platonic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by dontdowhatihavedone.tumblr.com

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer I have had nothing to do with znt since it finished airing so I'm sorry if things are inaccurate

24\. Rebirth

 

Both of them had known, for as long as they'd been out of the facility, that Nine would be the first one to die.

Even before they'd escaped, Nine had started exhibiting the same symptoms as some of the kids from the facility, shortly before Twelve never saw them again. The headaches and muscle spasms – for a while more annoying than anything, but gradually becoming more and more scary as time went on and they all got so much worse.

Nine never made a big show of it when he was in pain, but Twelve could read him at a glance. And he always wished there was something he could do to help. He hated seeing Nine in pain, but Nine wouldn't accept any sympathy. Twelve tried to give it, but Nine would have none of it.

Twelve wasn't sure if the attacks hit harder at night, or if that was just the only time that Nine would allow himself to react strongly to them. The first time Nine woke Twelve up during an attack, it was because he was crying. Sobbing quietly – a sound that would have been easily missed by anybody happening to pass by, amid all the sounds of the street and the bustles of people past their alley – but it was the loudest sound young Twelve had ever heard.

He tried to help Nine that night – tried to offer him some sort of comfort, anything at all – but nothing helped, and eventually Nine just snapped at him to leave him alone.

So Twelve had moved away from him, and had to turn his back and try and fall back asleep on the cold, hard asphalt, while Nine continued crying. He'd fight to keep himself from crying too, but it never worked.

\- - -

The attacks only got worse as Nine grew older. None of the painkillers they found – they tried any kind they could get their hands on – made a dent in them.

They mostly stole money while they were young, just after the facility burned down. For a while, thanks to careful planning, they made it work. They were small, and could get in and out of places unnoticed with relative ease. Later on, they found better ways to funnel money into their accounts, none of them particularly legal. They were able to move off the streets, into an apartment, and set their plan in motion.

Neither of them could really remember deciding to get revenge on the people at the facility. It was an unspoken agreement; the world had to know what had been done to them, and all the other kids. The finer details of this plan were worked out as they went.

By the time they were fourteen, and hard at work in planning, Nine's attacks came every week, or every two weeks. Twelve suspected that it was because of the strenuous amount of thinking he was doing, and he brought this up, but he was always shot down or brushed off. Nine didn't seem to care about the attacks, and as long as Twelve was around him, he certainly wasn't about to show off the fact that it hurt.

That would only slow things down.

But still, at night, Nine couldn't or wouldn't keep that façade up. Twelve would wake up, and have to just lie there and listen to his best friend's stifled, agonized noises, and he'd glare at the ceiling and he'd curse every single one of the people at the facility in which they'd been raised.

It was their fault. It was all their fault that Nine hurt like this all the time. He'd had to suffer twice, three times as along as some of the kids in the facility. How much longer would he have to keep it up?

He wanted Nine to live a long life. But he also didn't want him to suffer anymore, either, and he couldn't have both.

The fact that Twelve would outlive Nine was very, very present during nights like that.

\- - -

They continued to build up their plans as time went on. Within three years, they had everything in place. Twelve was proud of Nine for all the work he'd done. There was no way Twelve could have come up with even half of it on his own.

Sometimes while they were in the middle of planning, Nine would go silent and hold his head in his hands. Twelve would either pretend not to notice or brightly say something about going to get a drink whenever this happened, and would take care not to come back until he was sure the attack had passed.

He didn't want to live without Nine. He didn't want to see him die. Of course, he couldn't ever say any of this – Nine wouldn't listen. Nine was all business, especially once the plan started really getting put in motion.

Weeks before the first bomb, they stayed up late together working out the last of the details. Caffeine made the headaches worse, but Nine didn't seem to keep that in mind as he stayed up for two or three days on end, eyes glued to the screen. He always insisted that Twelve go to sleep, and that he would soon follow. Almost every time, Twelve would wake up and find Nine still seated at the computer, not having moved an inch.

By that point, the attacks happened every couple of days. A few nights before everything started – before the first bomb, before Lisa – Nine had his worst attack yet.

Twelve had just left the room to get some coffee for the two of them. He left Nine alone for roughly two minutes.

When he came back, he found Nine curled into a little ball on the floor, arms around his head, shaking violently, letting out small, pained noises.

Twelve hadn't been able to stop himself.

“Nine,” he breathed, dropping the mugs. They spilled and probably broke all over the floor, but he didn't care, or even notice.

He knelt beside Nine and gripped his shoulder.

“Nine,” he said, frantic. “Nine – are you okay?”

For a while, Nine was in too much pain to even speak. When he finally did, all he could manage was “ _my head_ ”, in a tiny, weak voice.

Twelve wanted to cry.

He stayed right by Nine's side as he suffered through it. For once, Nine didn't seem to mind him being there – or maybe he just lacked the strength to push him away.

Twelve knew from experience that noise made the pain worse, so he stayed silent until the fit subsided. It was only a minute or so long, just like the rest of them, but this one seemed to last an eternity.

Once it was over, and Nine had started to relax, Twelve allowed himself to speak.

“Nine,” he said gently. “Hey.”

Nine's eyes were closed and his breathing ragged. There was blood dripping from his nose.

“Can you sit up?” Twelve asked. “Lean on me, okay? Let me look at you.”

“I'm fine,” Nine mumbled, but he did as he was told. He was still shaky, and even paler than normal.

He'd been awake for almost four days straight, Twelve realized. No wonder this one had hit him so hard. No wonder he was so willing to let Twelve help.

Twelve felt sick to his stomach.

Nine leaned so heavily against Twelve's chest that Twelve could hardly support him. For a while, he just lay there and breathed.

Twelve wiped away the blood with his sleeve. “When was the last time you slept?” he asked.

“I don't have time to sleep,” Nine replied, his voice hoarse. “We're so close. We're almost done.”

“You need to sleep,” Twelve said firmly. “The plan can wait. We don't need to get it done right away –”

“ _Twelve,_ ” Nine said sharply, suddenly glaring up at him.

Nine took hold of a fistful of Twelve's shirt, pulled him close, and spoke in a low, deadly voice.

“Twelve,” he snarled, looking his best friend dead in the eye. “We need people to know what happened to us. The sooner, the better.

“I don't have time to sleep. I don't have any damn time at all.”

They stared at each other, quiet once more. Twelve was the one to break the silence.

“You're going to bed,” he said, his mouth feeling very dry. “Please. Please, just one good night's sleep, and I'll leave you alone about it.”

More staring, more silence – and Nine, incredibly, caved.

He let go of Twelve's shirt and closed his eyes.

“Okay,” he said, in an unbelievably quiet voice. Twelve noticed how far gone he already looked.

He helped Nine stand and half-carried him into the bedroom. He laid him down and watched as he almost instantly fell asleep.

Twelve found himself frowning hard. To his horror, he felt tears in his eyes.

He wanted to scream. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Nine was in so much pain, so often. It wasn't fair that he wouldn't get to live. Twelve would, very soon, have to go on without Nine. He'd have to live the rest of his life without Nine there.

And it wasn't fair. _It wasn't fair_.

Twelve couldn't make himself truly believe in any afterlife, or reincarnation, no matter how hard he tried. But he hoped and wished with _everything he had_ , in that moment, as he watched Nine sleep, that if there was such a thing as life after this death, that Nine would be safe, and happy, and _healthy –_ everything he wanted and deserved.

He hoped that Nine forgot all about this life, and every second of the agony he'd been forced to endure throughout.

\- - -

Nine watched Twelve fall.

He watched the red spread across his best friend's back.

The rest of the world fell away as he began to understand what was happening. It didn't register at first, because it just didn't make any sense.

Nine was supposed to die first.

Nine was never supposed to have to watch Twelve die.

He staggered forward, seemingly in slow motion, and fell to his knees, breathless, beside him.

For a second, he couldn't even think. His head hurt. His heart was threatening to explode. He felt hot, he felt cold. His hands curled into fists and he closed his eyes and he opened his mouth and he _screamed_.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

_This wasn't how it was supposed to be._

Nine was supposed to go first.

Everything _hurt._ He couldn't feel his hands. Twelve's eyes were still wide open. There was no light in them at all. He looked scared. He looked hopeless.

Twelve was supposed to live and see how the world had changed. He was supposed to be the one to keep telling their story.

Nine couldn't do it for him.

Nine was never supposed to be able to. They'd planned it that way. They'd planned for Twelve to be the one to live.

This was the thing – the _only_ thing – that they hadn't planned for.

It just hadn't made any sense, and it still didn't now.

Now, Nine was glad that his end was close.

He didn't want this anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEN THEY WERE REINCARNATED AS KAGEYAMA AND YAMAGUCHI FROM HAIKYUU YES GOOD


End file.
